


i miss it

by thatsgottahurt



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, depression?? kinda?? it's not stated explicitly but it's implied, lance is homesick, platonic or romantic, whatever floats your boat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 21:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9517313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsgottahurt/pseuds/thatsgottahurt
Summary: Lance is homesick. Keith cares.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be whumpy but then it turned into angst i'm sorry  
> but anyway this is my first actual post for voltron! i hope you enjoy ;)  
> this could be seen as klance or just two bros hanging out so just imagine whatever you want and have fun

Space is cool. Lance can admit that. What he doesn't want to admit, though, is the fact that he's homesick.

He's so,  _ so  _ homesick.

He misses the ocean. He misses the waves washing over his feet and up his ankles, the smell of the salt in the water and the feeling of the sand between his toes. He misses the breeze and the old towels he used to have, dark blue stripes fading off of the worn fabric. He misses the rain especially.

It doesn't rain in space. There aren’t any beaches or oceans or anything remotely close to his mom's cooking, and he wants to  _ remember _ .

He wants to remember so,  _ so _ badly, but it hurts to remember, to know that he'll probably never see his little sister's smile ever again, so he tries to forget.

Of course, he never does.

He can't bring himself to ignore everything before the Castle Ship, before Blue, before becoming a Paladin, before having the crushing weight of saving the universe on his shoulders at the age of 17.

He wants to forget, but at the same time, he doesn't.

If he forgets, it'll be easy. When he smiles, he might actually mean it. He might be able to fully accept that he can't go back to Earth, and he might be able to wholeheartedly fulfill his duty as a Paladin of Voltron.

But if he remembers, it'll be painful. It'll probably hurt more than any wound he's ever gotten in a battle so far, and it'll leave him with that awful ache in his chest that makes him want to scream.

It won't be easy, but when has he ever backed down from a challenge?

So the ache doesn't go away. Some days, it's small. He can laugh for a while and really mean it, and his jokes don't sound as forced.

Other days, it  _ hurts _ . It won't go away, no matter what he does, and it doesn't stop until he can finally sleep.

The nightmares are still there sometimes, though.

Most of the team probably knows. Hunk  _ definitely  _ does, and Pidge can probably guess why he sometimes comes late to breakfast with bloodshot eyes and messy hair. Whenever that happens, Shiro is always gentle. Lance is pretty sure he knows, too.

The only one he's not sure about is Keith.

Keith doesn't seem to care how shitty Lance feels, because he doesn't act any differently than normal. Maybe he just doesn't notice. The guy is usually cooped up in the training room all day, so Lance isn't surprised that he's not very good at social cues or how to act when someone is feeling down. The only cue he knows well enough to act on is the sound of Allura’s alarm clock blaring through the Castle’s speaker system.

But, honestly, Lance couldn't care less. If Keith doesn't care, so what? He doesn't want to lean on anyone else for help when they all have the same problem.  _ Everybody _ on the ship is homesick.

Sometimes, though, it's too much. Sometimes, it hurts so much that he can't breathe and his chest hurts and the tears just  _ don’t stop  _ no matter how hard he tries to keep them at bay.

Luckily, he hasn’t ever broken down in front of the whole team. He hopes he never will.

He doesn’t deserve that, right? Not when he’s so useless to the team, so annoying and obnoxious that he’s more of a burden than a help to the rest of them. 

They all have a “thing”. But Lance? Lance doesn’t have a thing.

So Lance puts on his happiest face so the rest of the team doesn’t ask him why his eyes are so glassy, why his smile fades as soon as they’re not looking, why he doesn’t show up to dinner.

“It’s not easy to attain beauty like mine,” is his excuse the morning after, even though he probably looks worse than he did yesterday. It doesn’t matter. They probably won’t notice anyway.

It’s tiring to keep up the daily facade. It’s tiring to try and keep himself from crying every time he laughs and to smile even though he really just wants to curl up into a ball and finally,  _ finally _ sleep.

It takes its toll, and eventually, someone notices. It’s just not the person he expected.

Lance dreams of the sand. He can feel it between his toes and on the backs of his hands and in his messy, salt-covered hair. He laughs, and falls back into it, embracing it as he rolls around and practically drowns in it. But the more he rolls, the more it falls away. The more he tries to grab it, the faster it blows away. It’s slipping,  _ he’s  _ slipping, and suddenly, it’s gone, and all that’s left is the ghost of a memory of a place he loved so much.

_ Home _ .

And then he can’t help but cry. He breaks, trembling hands coming up to cover quivering lips as tears burn tracks down his cheeks. He’s shaking, and he can’t stop. It hurts, it hurts  _ so  _ much, and all he wants is to be back home.

He sobs, and he panics as he realizes how loud he sounded. He tries to wipe away his tears, he  _ really really  _ does, but they just won’t stop.

So he gives up. He falls back onto the bed, one fist clenched around the worn fabric of his shirt and the other still pressed desperately over his mouth. He shuts his eyes and rolls onto his side as he fights for breath inbetween each sob, pressing his face into the mattress as he continues to cry.

He feels pitiful. Useless. Pathetic. Unwanted. Un _ loved _ . Annoy--

“Lance…?” Lance’s eyes burst open, breath hitching in his throat at the sound of the voice.

_ Keith’s voice _ .

“Hey… Are you okay…?” Keith sounds tired, and his voice is so hoarse that it cracks a couple of times. Lance would’ve found it funny on any other occasion, but now…

“Lance? Are you in there?” Keith’s voice is stronger now, and it’s tinged with worry.

Lance swallows around the lump in his throat and tries his best to wipe away his tears before rolling out of bed and trudging to the door.

He opens it silently, eyes pointed downwards. He can’t face Keith like this. He just  _ can’t _ .

Keith doesn’t react other than a small, breathless gasp that only lasts for a moment before the worry kicks back in.

“I… I heard you crying.” Lance doesn't look up, or offer any other acknowledgement other than a small, tired, “sorry”.

“No no no, I didn’t mean… I just wanted to see if you…” Keith chooses his next wording carefully, continuing softly. “...were okay.”

Lance stiffens. Keith  _ cared _ ? He wasn’t angry?

“Hey, Lance,” Keith breaks through his thoughts, voice still soft and caring. “Look at me?”

Lance did. It was slow, and kind of embarrassing, but he did.

And he almost regretted it. Keith looks sad,  _ really  _ sad, when Lance meets his gaze. He can’t tell if it was with pity or empathy, but it confuses him.

“Are you okay?” Keith asks, and Lance  _ wants  _ to answer him with words, he really does, but when he opens his mouth nothing comes out. His breath is speeding up and he can feel the tears brimming in his eyes because  _ someone cares, Keith cares,  _ and he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until his arms are around Keith and he’s full-on sobbing into the Red Paladin’s shoulder.

Keith seems caught off-guard, and he tenses up a little before relaxing and awkwardly putting his arms around Lance’s waist as well.

And Lance tells him about his family and the ocean and the sand and his mom’s food and the breeze and how much he  _ misses _ all of it and how  _ useless  _ and  _ alone _ he is and how much he wants to go back  _ home _ .

Keith is silent, warm, as he waits for Lance's erratic breathing to calm, rubbing circles onto his back. The movement is instinctive and feels slightly intimate for their rocky relationship as “rivals”, but he doesn't mind.

Lance doesn't mind, either. His hands are still trembling, but he's not crying anymore and his breathing isn't as chaotic as it had been before, which he supposes is a good thing.

He begins to let go, only now fully realizing the awkwardness of the situation, but Keith doesn't let him. 

“I'm not letting you go until I know you're okay.” He says quietly, his breath warm on Lance's neck. “So are you okay?”

Lance is silent for a moment, but he nods.

“Yeah.” He murmurs, and though he's not very confident in saying so, he doesn't want to bother Keith any more than he already has.

“Okay.” Keith releases his hold, and Lance shivers at the cold air that surrounds him as he lets go.

There's an awkward silence that fills the air before Keith speaks up quietly.

“I guess I'll… uh… see you tomorrow?” He offers, hands fiddling with the edges of his shirt instinctively.

Lance nods, offering a small, kind of lame, smile. “Okay.”

Keith smiles back, and he looks  _ genuinely _ happy, before he turns with a small wave and heads off to his room.

Just as he gets there, though, Lance calls out. He doesn't even realize what he's doing until it's done.

“Will you… stay with me tonight…?” He knows it's a lot to ask and a lot to want from a guy he apparently “hates”, but he needs it. He's been alone for so long, and he needs to know that there's someone there.

He hates sleeping alone.

Keith looks hesitant, and Lance wonders for a second if he should take it back, until he comes back and smiles knowingly. “Sure.” He replies, like it's the simplest thing in the world.

So they settle in Lance's bed silently, struggling a bit to get comfortable in the small space.

After a little while, they're both quiet. Lance hates to admit it, but it's awkward.  _ Really _ awkward. So Lance does his best to lighten the mood.

“I always knew you had emotions, samurai.” He quips, nudging Keith in the ribs.

Keith jabs him twice as hard with a snort and an “Oh, shut up,” but Lance can hear the smile in his voice.

The quiet settles once more, but it's not as uncomfortable. It's warm, knowing. It makes Lance drowsy and he yawns, burrowing down into his blankets as he closes his eyes.

Surrounded by the warmth of the sheets and Keith next to him, the ache melts a little.

“Thank you.” He murmurs quietly, his voice only slightly muffled by the blanket.

“No problem.” Keith replies, and the air feels lighter.

When Lance wakes up the next morning, his arms wrapped around Keith's waist and his cheek pressed against his shoulder, the ache is almost gone.


End file.
